A “Used-to-be” Simplicity

I love to look back on the simple times. The simple wonders of life. The lack of fear, anxiety; the lack of responsibility. A total freedom to run around and smell the flowers, play in the trees and messy up my clothes. I love to remember the times I used to down a juice box and bowl of mac and cheese without a fear of the food itself. I would waste away the day outside without any fear of work impending on me. Times were beautiful. These simple days were so sweet. But the simple days are gone. Those moments are passed. I will not, however, be discouraged. The lack of simplicity allows for growth. The pressures of the world pressing down on my shoulders only strengthens the muscles in my arms allowing me to carry more. My little hands would never be able to hold the wonders that my adult hands can carry. I can now see colors that only hardships can open my eyes to. If struggle leads to beauty, is hardship truly real? Or is it only growing pains? I rejoice in my pain, I rejoice in my struggle, for I know it allows me to become older, wiser, and more achieved so that I might one day grow old and return to my life of peaceful simplicity.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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